Sherlock Holmes: Hound of the Baskervilles

CONTENT WARNING: Frightening scenes, themes of murder and violence. 

In this special Halloween episode, unleash your inner detective as we join Sherlock Holmes in unraveling the chilling mystery of The Hound of the Baskervilles. A spectral hound, an eccentric family, and an eerie moorland awaits you as we delve into the spooky tale by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  So, snuggle up in your blankets and have sweet dreams. 

The music in this episode is Theme for Autumn by Franz Gordon. 

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Transcript

Speaker 1: 0:20

Welcome to Dreamful Podcast Bedtime stories for slumber. I would like to start off this episode by thanking our newest supporters, alice Charlwood and Nathan Rouse. Thank you both so much and I hope you have the sweetest dreams. If you would like to support the show and gain access to the subscriber only episodes while receiving a shout out, visit dreamfullstoriescom and, on the support page, find a link to become a Buzzsprout supporter or subscribe via supercast. If you listen on Spotify, I am so excited about this episode's sponsor, hellofresh.

Speaker 1: 0:59

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Speaker 1: 1:46

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Speaker 1: 4:15

Mr Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was a fine, thick piece of wood Bulbas headed. Just under the head was a broad silver band, nearly an intercross To James Mordmer and Mar-C-S from his friends at the C-C-H was engraved upon it with the date 1884. It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry Dignified, solid and reassuring.

Speaker 1: 5:18

As I inspected it, holmes, without turning, asked for my deductions. I ventured that the owner, dr Mordmer, was an esteemed elderly medical man who frequented the countryside. Holmes ever, the detective, encouraged me to delve deeper. He then, unfazed by my speculative leaps, took the stick and observed it keenly. Now you will observe that he could not have been on the staff of the hospital, since only a man well established in a London practice could hold such a position, and such a one would not drift into the country. What was he then, if he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff? He could only have been a house surgeon or a house physician, no more than a senior student. And he left five years ago. The date is on the stick.

Speaker 1: 6:28

So your grave middle-aged family practitioner vanishes into thin air, my dear Watson, and there emerges a young fellow on a thirty-emuble, unambitious, absent-minded and the possessor of a favorite dog which I shall describe roughly as being larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff. In a dramatic turn, the man himself, dr Mortimer, appeared at our door validating Holmes' deductions. A tall, respectacled man. He revealed the stick's origin a marriage gift from friends, a chairing cross-hospital. Holmes, unswayed by the disruption, continued his deductions. He noticed marks on the stick made by dog, larger than a terrier but smaller than a mastiff. As Holmes spoke, the very dog in question appeared on our doorstep, confirming his deductions. Dr Mortimer, impressed, confirmed that the dog was indeed a curly-haired spaniel. Holmes was silent, but his little darting glances showed me the interest which he took in our curious companion. I presume, sir, he said at last that there is a reason that you have done me the honor to call here last night and again today. I came to you, mr Holmes, because I recognize that I am myself an unpractical man and because I am suddenly confronted with the most serious and extraordinary problem.

Speaker 1: 8:30

Dr James Mortimer entered Sherlock Holmes' room carrying an old manuscript from the early 18th century. Holmes, with his keen eye, determined the date to be 1742. Dr Mortimer explained that Sir Charles Baskerville, who died tragically three months prior, entrusted him with his family legend. Dr Mortimer turned the manuscript to the light and read in a high, cracking voice the following curious old world narrative Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed his fingertips together and closed his eyes with an air of resignation.

Speaker 1: 9:25

The manuscript told a tale of Hugo Baskerville, a wild and godless man who pursued a maiden against her will, but the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. The story led to a fateful night when Hugo, driven by devilish passion, stole the maiden and locked her in an upstairs chamber. At last, while Hugo was dining, by the aid of the growth of Ivy, which covered and still covers the south wall. She came down from under the eaves and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the hall and her father's farm. It chanced that some little time later, hugo left his guest to carry food and drink to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped.

Speaker 1: 10:38

He ran from the house, crying to his men that they should settle his mare and uncannel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maids, he swung them to the line as so, off full cry, in the moonlight over the moor, everything was now in an aprore, some calling for the pistols, some for the horses and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took course and started in pursuit. Hugo rode ahead at such a pace the squires lost sight of him. They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moor lands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scare speak. But at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden with the hounds upon her track. But I have seen more than that said. He, for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon this black mare, and there ran mute behind him, such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.

Speaker 1: 12:21

So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward, but soon their skins turned cold, for there came galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bread on empty saddle. Then the revelers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion, they came at last upon the hounds. These, though, known for their valor and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip Upon the moor, some slinking away and some with starting hackles and staring eyes, came to a halt at a broad space with great stones. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the center lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen dead of fear and fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that the body of Hugo Baskerville, lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of the men, but it was that, standing over Hugo and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great black beast shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever moored. An eye has rested upon and, even as they looked, the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the men shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor.

Speaker 1: 14:45

When Dr Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative, he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire. Well said, he do not find it interesting. Dr Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket. Now, mr Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville, which occurred a few days before that date.

Speaker 1: 15:41

The facts presented at the inquest suggested natural causes, but Dr Mortimer, confiding in Holmes, revealed his own observations. Sir Charles, plagued by the family legend, believed in a dreadful fate hanging over his kin. His nervous system was strained and he refused to venture onto the moor at night. Dr Mortimer recounted a peculiar incident where Sir Charles, in a state of horror, saw a mysterious black figure near his home. Holmes listened attentively as Dr Mortimer described the events leading to Sir Charles's death.

Speaker 1: 16:36

On the night of Sir Charles's death, barry Mortha Butler, who made the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me and as I was sitting up late, I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the EW alley. I saw the spot at the moor gate where he seemed to have waited. I remarked the change in the shape of the prince. After that point I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel. And finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground and his features convulsed with some strong emotion, to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity.

Speaker 1: 17:39

There was certainly no physical injury of any kind, but one false statement was made by Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground around the body. He did not observe any, but I did some little distance off, but fresh and clear Footprints. Footprints, man or Woman's. Dr Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he answered Mr Holmes. They were the footprints of a gigantic hound. As Dr Mortimer spoke, a shudder passed through me, sensing the gravity of his words. The doctor's voice conveyed a thrill, revealing his deep emotional involvement in the matter.

Speaker 1: 18:48

Holmes, keenly interested, leaned forward with his eyes glittering. You witnessed this. Holmes inquired as clearly as I see you. Why keep silent? What would be the use? Why did no one else notice it? The marks were away from the body and no one paid them any attention. I wouldn't have either if I didn't know the legend. Were there many sheepdogs? Or the moor Probably, but this was no sheepdog. Large, you say, enormous, but it didn't approach the body. No, what kind of night was it? Damp and raw, not raining. No, describe the alley Two lines of U-Hedge, 12 feet high, with an 8-foot walk in the center, anything between the hedges and the walk.

Speaker 1: 20:04

Yes, a 6-foot strip of grass on either side. The U-Hedge has a gate, yes, a wicket gate leading to the moor. No other opening, none. To reach the U-Alley you must come down from the house or enter through the moor gate. There is an exit through a summer house at the far end. Does the Charles reach it? No, he lay about 50 yards away.

Speaker 1: 20:38

Tell me, were the marks on the path, not the grass? No, marks could show on the grass On the same side as the moor gate. Yes, on the edge of the path. You interest me. Another point was the wicket gate closed, closed and padlocked? How high? About 4 feet. So anyone could have gotten over it? Yes, what marks did you see by the wicket gate? None, in particular. Did anyone else examine it? Yes, I did so. Charles has stood there for 5 or 10 minutes. How do you know? The ash had twice dropped from his cigar Wonderful, a colleague after all in the heart the marks. He left his own marks all over the gravel patch. I saw no others. Holmes, impatient, struck his hand against his knee. If only I had been there.

Speaker 1: 22:01

It's an extraordinary case with immense opportunities for a scientific expert. But, dr Mortimer, you have much to answer to for not calling me in. I couldn't, without disclosing the facts to the world. Besides, why hesitate? There's a realm where even the most acute detective is helpless Supernatural. I didn't say that, but you think it.

Speaker 1: 22:35

After the tragedy, I've heard of incidents that defy the laws of nature. People have seen a creature on the moor like the Baskerville Daemon Huge, luminous, gasly. There's a rain of terror, and crossing the moor at night is a perilous feat. Do you believe it's supernatural? I don't know what to believe. Holmes shrugged. I've confined my investigations to this world. But the footmark is material. The original hound was material and diabolical. I'm unsure.

Speaker 1: 23:20

Holmes sighed. If there's a diabolical force against Baskervilles on Dartmoor, it's a problem. Your advice, dr Mortimer. I seek guidance on what to do with Sir Henry Baskerville arriving at Waterloo in an hour as the air. Yes, if I bring him to Baskerville Hall it might be perilous, yet the countryside relies on his presence, holmes pondered. In your opinion, dartmoor is unsafe for Baskerville due to diabolical forces. There's some evidence. If your supernatural theory holds, it could harm the young man in London as well. Still, a devil with local powers is inconceivable. Your advice then Take a cab, go to Waterloo and meet Sir Henry. Say nothing to him until I've made up my mind. Call on me tomorrow at 10 with Sir Henry. I will, mr Holmes. Dr Mortimer left and Holmes turned to me Going out. Watson, unless I can help you, no, I'll turn to you for aid at the hour of action.

Speaker 1: 25:04

Our breakfast table is cleared early and Holmes waited in his dressing gown for the promised interview. Dr Mortimer and Sir Henry Baskerville, a small sturdy man with a pugnacious face, arrived punctually. Sir Henry presented a letter he'd received that morning, a warning against some more. Holmes analyzed the letter, identifying its source as a hotel, due to the ink in the paper used. Sir Henry mentioned losing a boot purchased the previous night. Holmes, deducing that the message sender observed them, proposed examining waste paper baskets in nearby hotels to find the source. After Sir Henry left, Holmes noticed someone trailing him. It was a cab driver. We tried to catch up but failed. Determined to identify the mysterious cabman who followed Sir Henry, we enlisted the help of a messenger office. Holmes instructed a boy Cartwright to visit hotels and look for a time's page with holes cut in it, a likely source of the message. Unfortunately, I had taken note of the cab number 2704.

Speaker 1: 26:50

We explored Bond Street galleries. While awaiting the results, sherlock Holmes, in his usual manner, effortlessly shifted his focus from the mysterious case to the artistry of modern Belgian masters. The intrigue surrounding Sir Henry Baskerville was momentarily set aside as Holmes immersed himself in a discussion of art. Eventually we left the gallery and found ourselves at the Northumberland Hotel Upstairs. The Hotel Clerk informed us of Sir Henry's presence and welcomed Holmes to examine the register. Holmes noted two recent additions the awfulist Johnson and family of Newcastle and Mrs Oldmore and her maid of high-lodge Elton. Holmes, intrigued by the mention of Johnson, inquired if it was the lawyer he once knew. However, the porter clarified that it was Mr Johnson, the co-owner. Mrs Oldmore's identity was explained as an infallible lady who regularly stayed at the hotel when in town.

Speaker 1: 28:18

As we ascended the stairs, Holmes whispered to me the significance of the information. The people interested in Sir Henry were not staying at this hotel, indicating a desire to watch him discreetly. This observation sparked Holmes' curiosity. Our assent was interrupted by the orate Sir Henry Baskerville brandishing an old and dusty boot. He complained about the hotel staff accusing them of playing tricks. His new brown boot had mysteriously transformed into an old black one. Holmes questioned the porter, revealing that Sir Henry was not alone in his boot predicament. Another guest, mrs Oldmore, had a similar experience.

Speaker 1: 29:16

Despite the apparent confusion, holmes saw significance in the incident, linking it to the larger web of mysteries surrounding Sir Henry. As we returned to Baker Street, holmes was engrossed in thought. He received two telegrams, one confirming Barrymore's presence at Baskerville Hall and the other reporting the failure to trace the cut sheet of the times. Holmes, untitured, decided to investigate further. He summoned a cab driver who had witnessed mysterious water that morning. The cab man, john Clayton, revealed that the gentleman had identified himself as Sherlock Holmes. Amused by the audacity of his imposter, holmes dismissed Clayton with a reward. However, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

Speaker 1: 30:32

Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day and we started as a range for Devonshire. Mr Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, watson, said he. I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me and you can leave me to do the theorizing. At the station we met with Dr Mortimer. When asked, mentioned no news but affirmed they hadn't been shadowed.

Speaker 1: 31:24

The journey to Baskerville Hall was pleasant. Sir Henry expressed excitement and I played with Dr Mortimer's spaniel. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, modeled with gnarled and craggy carons and tours. A cold wind swept down from it and set a shivering. Somewhere there on that desolate plain was lurking this Danish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestedness of the barren waste, the chilling wind and the darkening sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us.

Speaker 1: 32:39

We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams of threads of gold and glowing on the red earth New turned by the plow and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us group leaker and wilder, over the huge wusset in olive slopes sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then he passed a moorland cottage, wild and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cub-like depression, patched with stunted oaks and furs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip Baskerville Hall city. His master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes.

Speaker 1: 33:56

A few minutes later we had reached the lodge gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron with weather-bitten pillars on either side, lodged with leachens and surmounted by the boar's heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and buried ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half-constructed, the first route of Sir Charles's South African gold. Through the gateway we passed into the avenue where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves and the old trees shot their branches in a somber tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end. Was it here? He asked in a low voice. No, no, the you alias. On the other side, the young air glanced round with a gloomy face. It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this said, he Is enough to scare any man. At the gates, a tall figure welcomed them, a woman held with her bags. Dr Mortimer excused himself, leaving us to explore the hall. It was both grand and gloomy. Sir Henry was eager to explore, while Barrymore the butler, hinted at leaving due to the strange circumstances. By a word, it isn't a very cheerful place, says Sir Henry. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning.

Speaker 1: 36:33

I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out for my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two corpses of trees moaned and swung. In a rising wind, a half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees, a broken fringe of rocks In the long low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression wasn't keeping with rest. And yet it was not quite the last.

Speaker 1: 37:25

I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come Far away. A chiming clock struck the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then, suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound in my ears, clear, resonant and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one who was torn by an uncontrollable sorrow. I sat up in bed and listened intently. The noise could not have been far away and was certainly in the house. For half an hour I waited with every nerve on the alert, but there came no other sound save the chiming clock and the rustle of the ivy on the wall.

Speaker 1: 38:47

The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to a face from our minds, the grim and gray impression which had been left upon both of us by our first experience at Baskerville Hall. Sir Henry and I enjoyed our breakfast bathed in sunlight, erasing the eerie impressions of the previous night. Over tea. I asked Did you happen to hear someone a woman I think sobbing in the night? That is curious, for I did, when I was half asleep, fancy that I heard something of the sort. I waited quite a time but there was no more of it. So I concluded that it was all a dream. I heard it distinctly and I am sure that it really was a sob of a woman. We must ask about this right away.

Speaker 1: 39:53

He rang the bell and asked Barrymore whether he could account for our experience. It seemed to me that the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler still as he listened to his master's question. There are only two women in the house, sir Henry, he answered. One is the scullery maid who sleeps in the other wing, the other is my wife, and I can answer for it that the sound could not have come from her. Later, however, I discovered Mrs Barrymore with red eyes, a telltale sign of recent weeping. The enigma around Barrymore deepened. His wife cried and he lied about it. The connection to Sir Charles's death and the figure seen in the Regent Street became more intriguing To investigate. I sought information from the Grimpen Postmaster about the Tess Telegram. The Postmaster confirmed it's delivery to Barrymore, but the details were ambiguous, adding another layer to the mystery.

Speaker 1: 41:15

While Sir Henry engaged in post-breakfast tasks, I set out for a walk to Merri-Pitt House, home to the Stapletons. There I met Stapleton, an energetic naturalist who shared insights into the Moors' dangers. The conversation shifted to the mysterious Moor sound, believed by locals to be the hound of the Baskervilles. Stapleton guided me to Merri-Pitt House where I met Beryl Stapleton, his sister and a striking woman. Later, miss Stapleton intercepted me on my way back, urging me to leave the Moor immediately, cryptically warning of danger. She claimed her concern was due to Sir Charles's death and the Moor's reputation. Suspicious of her evasiveness, I sought more information, but she refused to divulge further details.

Speaker 1: 42:29

Returning to Baskerville Hall, I was left with a sense of foreboding. Miss Stapleton's cryptic warning lingered in my mind, overshadowing the Moor's beauty with an air of mystery and danger. In the days spent on the property I found, the Stapletons living in solitude have caught Sir Henry's attention, particularly the captivating Miss Stapleton. However, her brother displays an enigmatic disapproval of the budding connection. A notable excursion took us to the supposed origin of the spectral hound legend. Stapleton hinted at supernatural interference, aligning with popular beliefs. Sir Henry, infatuated with Miss Stapleton, is seemingly oblivious to the complexities of this unfamiliar landscape.

Speaker 1: 43:35

My concerns have heightened with the curious behavior of Barrymore, our butler. An inconclusive test telegram led to an interrogation revealing vague answers about its reception, and Barrymore's nocturnal activities deepen the mystery. Last night I observed him with a candle, gazing onto the Moor in secret. His actions left me uneasy, suggesting hidden affairs within Baskerville Hall. In the early morning I ventured down the corridor to inspect the room Barrymore had been in the night before. The window which faced the Moor stood out as peculiar among the house's many. It provided a close view of the surrounding landscape, unlike the other distant glimpses offered by alternate windows. Barrymore must have been peering out onto the Moor for some reason. A dark night made it difficult to fathom what he hoped to see.

Speaker 1: 44:49

My suspicions turned toward a potential romantic intrigue, possibly explaining his stealthy actions and his wife's unease. Barrymore was a striking figure and it wasn't far-fetched to imagine he might be involved in some love affair. The creak of a door I had heard after returning to my room the previous night now seemed to suggest he had gone out for a clandestine meeting. We could only be sure by watching for Barrymore. Sir Henry and I had spent a melancholy night visual in his room, but the eerie silence was unbroken, undeterred.

Speaker 1: 45:36

We attended the same next night, but it was only when we had almost given up that we heard a creaking step in the passage Stealthily following. We glimpsed Barrymore crouching at the window holding a candle, just as I had seen him before. The baronet confronted him and Barrymore's response was a mix of agitation and refusal to disclose his actions. A sudden realization hit me His candle might have been a signal Testing the theory. I held the candle to the window and, sure enough, a pinpoint of light responded from the distant more.

Speaker 1: 46:29

The townspeople had been uneasy as of late with news of an escaped convict. The truth emerged Barrymore's brother was the escaped convict Seldon, and the nightly light was a signal to guide him to food. Mrs Barrymore revealed the compassionate side of the story, explaining that her brother-in-law was starving on the moor and they couldn't abandon him. A seemingly respectable butler had been protecting a family secret and his wife took responsibility for the situation. The revelation left Sir Henry and me in astonishment.

Speaker 1: 47:21

Our attention turned to the moor where the signal light still burned. Determined to apprehend the convict, we set out on a night chase. Guided by the distant light, we reached a spot where a candle burned, concealed in the rocks, suddenly the convict appeared, hurling a rocket at us. We gave chase, but he outran us, disappearing into the moor. Exhausted, we stopped only to witness a bizarre sight A man standing on a tour outlined against the moon. The baronet, unnerved by the events and the eerie cry of a hound echoing across the moor, questioned the supernatural.

Speaker 1: 48:23

The foggy moorland spread its gloom as October 16th unfolded, the day of drizzle and melancholy, where rolling clouds embraced the house, veiling the desolate curves of the moor. After breakfast, barrymore, sir Henry's butler, saw a private chat. His grievance was in our pursuit of Selden. Barrymore's brother-in-law revealed against his will Selden isn't a menace and arrangements for a South American journey progress. Barrymore pleaded for silence to spare his wife the trouble. After much deliberation, sir Henry opted to let Selden go without police involvement. Barrymore, feeling most grateful, revealed a secret about Sir Charles' death. He met a woman at the gate that fateful night. Her initials LL. Sir Charles had a letter with the initials LL requesting secrecy and a meeting at the gate by 10. The letter's remnants found by Barrymore's wife hinted at a connection between Sir Charles and LL. The rain persisted.

Speaker 1: 50:03

On October 17th I found Dr Mortimer at his dog cart lamenting his missing spaniel who had been lost on the moor. I revealed to Mortimer the information about LL and Sir Charles. He explained he knows no woman with LL initials except Laura Lyons, daughter of the eccentric Freikland. Laura, mistreated by her artist husband, was deserted and struggles financially. Sir Charles and Stapleton supported her All.

Speaker 1: 50:47

To inform Sir Henry in person, I chose to visit Miss Lyons alone at Coombe Tracy. She was a striking woman and her conversation unveiled a tale of complexity. Her association with Sir Charles Baskerville was founded on letters expressing gratitude and an unfortunate history. The clandestine meeting had been planned but she denied attending. Her story while compelling left lingering doubts. The letter intercepted by me before its intended reader had revealed her intentions to meet Sir Charles at the very time of his death. My inquiries were met with evasion and her reasons for secrecy seemed inconsistent.

Speaker 1: 51:45

The focus then shifted to the mysterious man on the moor. A chance encounter with Mr Franklin revealed a curious source a child delivering sustenance to an unknown figure residing in the stone huts on the hills. Determined to unravel the truth, I ventured alone to the moor, where my search led me to a hut that appeared to be a dwelling. A discovery of provisions, a makeshift bed and a cryptic note hinting at my presence heightened the sense of intrigue. I decided to wait, concealed in the shadows, for the arrival of the mysterious tenant.

Speaker 1: 52:40

As the sun dipped below the horizon, footsteps echoed and the stranger emerged. To my astonishment, it was none other than Sherlock Holmes, greeting me with a familiar tone and hinting at the complexity of the mysteries ahead. You have been invaluable to me, holmes acknowledged, handing me a bundle of papers. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and intelligence you shone in this difficult case. His words softened my lingering bitterness over his deception. He then detailed the reasons for his clandestine approach, emphasizing the need for secrecy to outwit our formidable opponents. As we sat in the hut, the mystery deepened. Holmes probe did my visit with Mrs Laura Lyons, unraveling the threads of connection. Holmes deduced that Bale Stapleton was in fact Stapleton's wife, not his sister.

Speaker 1: 54:02

Night descended on the moor and we withdrew into the hut. Holmes urged me to return to Baskerville Hall, my charge, with the dread of impending danger hanging in the air. As we contemplated the next steps, a piercing scream echoed across the moor, followed by a deep, ominous rumble. Holmes sprang to his feet, his dark silhouette etched against the twilight, the hound. He exclaimed come Watson, come, great heavens if we are too late. In a frantic rush, we sprinted through the moor guided by the chilling screams. The ominous sound drew near and a terrible realization gripped us the hound, the creature of legend, was not a mere phantom. It was real and its prey was our dear friend Sir Henry.

Speaker 1: 55:16

As we reached the summit, the moor stretched before us and a single, steady light gleamed at the distance Stapleton's abode. Holmes, in his somber determination, vowed to bring justice to the villain who had eluded us for so long. The scream intensified, echoing with despair. Desperation fueled our pursuit and we stumbled through the dark searching for the source of the agony. Holmes, a man of iron, was shaken to the core. Then, in the shadows, we saw a dark figure sprawled over the rocks. The grotesque posture told a tale of tragedy. Holmes, in a swift motion, uncovered the face of the fallen man the brute, I cried, disclenched.

Speaker 1: 56:27

As we beheld not Sir Henry but the escaped convict, seldon, the grim reality unfolded. The hound, driven by some connection to Sir Henry, had claimed another victim. Stapleton, with his deceptive charm, joined us on the moor. Unaware of the unfolding tragedy, he inquired about Sir Henry's safety. The discovery of Seldon's lifeless form, however, shocked him. Holmes, his eyes keen, noted Stapleton's feigned concern. Why about Sir Henry in particular, I questioned, sensing a hidden motive Because I had suggested that he should come over. Stapleton replied, his eyes darting between Holmes and me. Holmes scrutiny intensified. The conversation pivoted to speculations about Seldon's demise and the phantom hound. Stapleton, masking his true emotions, agreed with the theory of Seldon succumbing to madness, meeting a trojagund. The plan to conceal Seldon's body for the night was decided and Stapleton, opting against offering his hospitality, departed alone. We watched as this figure receded into the night, a solitary smudge against the moonlit slope.

Speaker 1: 58:25

As we walked towards Baskerville Hall, the moor lay silent, concealing its secrets. Holmes, deep in thought, pondered the complexities of the case. What a nerve the fellow has, holmes mused. Like most clever criminals, he may be too confident in his own cleverness and imagine that he has completely deceived us. I pressed Holmes for the next steps, but he remained cryptic. He spoke of hopes in Mrs Lyons, revealing critical information and his own plan to gain the upper hand. We have never had a foeman more worthy of our steel, holmes acknowledged, and a quiet determination settled over him.

Speaker 1: 59:27

Reaching the Baskerville gates, holmes chose to end the concealment. The mystery was far from solved, but Holmes, with a glint of resolve in his eyes, was ready to face the challenges that awaited us. It was time to fix the nets. Sir Henry was pleased to see Holmes, surprised that he had no luggage or explanations. We supplied his knees and, over supper, shared our experiences.

Speaker 1: 1:00:10

Breaking the news to bury more in his wife was uneasy. Sir Henry had kept his promise not to go alone but received a message from Stapleton. But what about the case as the Baronette, have you made anything out of that angle? I think that I shall be in a position to make the situation rather more clear to you before long. It has been an exceedingly difficult and most complicated business. There are several points upon which we still want light, but it is coming all the same.

Speaker 1: 1:00:51

Holmes abruptly stopped staring into the air Excuse the admiration of Connoisseur, he said. Waving his hand towards the portraits, he identified them and then turned his attention to a portrait of Hugo, the cause of the hound of Baskervilles. Holmes led me back into the banquetting hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he held it up against the time-stained portrait on the wall. Do you see anything there? I looked at the broad-plumed hat, the curling love locks, the white lace collar and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It was not a brutal countenance, but it was prim, hard and stern, with a firm set, thin-lipped mouth and a coolly and tolerant eye. Is it like anyone you know? There is something of Sir Henry about the jaw, just a suggestion perhaps. But wait an instant. He stood upon a chair and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his right arm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets. Good heavens, I cried in amazement. The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas. Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator that you should see through a disguise. But this is marvelous. It might be his portrait. Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback which appears to be both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough to convert a man to the doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is a basketball, that is evident.

Speaker 1: 1:03:22

The next day, holmes visited London, sending a telegram to the Strod and deciding to confront Mrs Laura Lyons. Mrs Lyons was in her office and Sherlock Holmes opened his interview with a frankness and directness which considerably amazed her. I'm investigating the circumstances which attend the death of the late Sir Charles Baskerville, said he. My friend here, dr Watson, has informed me of what you have communicated and also of what you have withheld in connection with that matter. What have I withheld? She asked if I had to find it. You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gate at ten o'clock. We know that was the place in our of his death. You have both held what the connection is between these events? There is no connection. In that case, the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinary one, but I think that we shall succeed in establishing a connection after all. I wish to be perfectly frank with you, mrs Lyons. We regard this case as one of murder, and the evidence may implicate not only your friend, mr Stapleton, but his wife as well.

Speaker 1: 1:04:57

The lady sprang from her chair. His wife, she cried. The fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed her sister is really his wife.

Speaker 1: 1:05:14

Mrs Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the arms of her chair and I saw that the pink nails had turned white with the pressure of her grip. His wife, she said again. His wife, he is not a married man. She luck homes shrugged his shoulders. Prove it to me, and if you do so, the fierce flash of her eyes said more than any words.

Speaker 1: 1:05:51

I have come prepared to do so, said Holmes, drawing several papers from his pocket. Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York four years ago. It is endorsed, mr and Mrs Vandalur, but you will have no difficulty in recognizing him and her also if you know her by sight. Here are three written descriptions by trustworthy witnesses of Mr and Mrs Vandalur who at that time kept St Oliver's private school. Read them and see if you can doubt the identity of these people. She glanced at them and then looked up at us with the said rigid face of a desperate woman, mr Holmes. She said this man had offered me marriage on condition that I could get a divorce from my husband. He asked me to make an appointment with Sir Charles, but then later he dissuaded me from keeping it and he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment. He did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one and that I should certainly be suspected. As the facts came out, he frightened me into remaining silent. I think that, on the whole, you have had a fortunate escape, sir Sherlock Holmes. You have had him in your power and knew it, and yet you are alive. We must wish you good morning now, mrs Lyons, and it is probable that you will very shortly hear from us again.

Speaker 1: 1:07:50

Sherlock Holmes, ever secretive about his plans, led us to the Moor for a final effort. Our journey was tense, shrouded in darkness. Holmes, lestraud and I discussed reveal matters to conceal our anticipation. The Moor's cold wind signaled our return. Amidst the looming adventure, holmes revealed nothing, heightening our anxiety. As we approached the Merriped house, our conversation was limited due to the driver's presence. Leaving the wagonette near the gate, we walked silently.

Speaker 1: 1:08:42

Holmes questioned the straw about being armed, ensuring readiness for emergencies. Arriving near the house, we halted, seeking concealment behind rocks. Spying through a window, I observed Sir Henry and Stapleton in the dining room, the latter talking animatedly. Suddenly, stapleton left the room, creating mysterious sound in an outhouse. Our tension mounted as we awaited his return. Holmes, suspecting danger, had us stay put.

Speaker 1: 1:09:27

The fog neared and we heard approaching footsteps. Sir Henry emerged from the fog terrified. There was a thin crisp, continuous patter from somewhere in the heart of that crawling bank. The cloud was within fifty yards of where we lay and we glared at it all three, uncertain of what horror was about to break from the heart of it. At the same instant, the straw gave a yell of terror and threw himself face downward upon the ground. I sprang to my feet by an art hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralyzed by the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog A hound.

Speaker 1: 1:10:24

It was an enormous, cold, black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth. Its eyes glowed with a smoldering glare. Its muzzle and hackles and doolap were outlined in flickering flame With long bounds. The huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralyzed were we but the apparition that we allowed him to pass. Before we recovered our nerve, then, holmes and I both fired together, and the creature gave a hideous howl which showed that one at least had hit him. He did not pause, however, but bounded onward.

Speaker 1: 1:11:24

Far away on the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands raised in horror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting him down. But that cry of pain from the hound had blown all of our fears to the winds. If he was vulnerable, he was mortal, and if we could wound him we could kill him. Never have I seen such a man as Holmes run the night. I am reckoned fleet afoot, but he outpaced me as much as I outpaced the little professional In front of us.

Speaker 1: 1:12:11

As we flew up the track, we heard scream after scream from Sir Henry and the deep roar of the hound. I was in time to see the beast spring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground and worry at his throat. But the next instant Holmes had emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature's flank. With the last howl of agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back four feet, pawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its side. I stooped, panting, and pressed my pistol to the dreadful, shimmering head, but it was useless to pull the trigger. The giant hound was dead. Sir Henry lay insensible where he had fallen. We tore away his collar and Holmes breathed a prayer of gratitude.

Speaker 1: 1:13:19

When we saw that there was no sign of a wound and that the rescue had been in time, we, our friend's eyelids, shivered and he made a feeble effort to move the straw, thrust his brandy flask between the bernette's teeth, and two frightened eyes were looking up at us. My God, he whispered. What was it? What in heaven's name was it? It's dead. Whatever it is said, holmes, we've laid the family ghost once and forever In mere size and strength.

Speaker 1: 1:14:07

It was a terrible creature which was lying stretched before us. It was not a pure bloodhound and it was not a pure mastiff, but it appeared to be a combination of the two gaunt, savage and as large as a small lioness. Even now, in the stillness of death, the huge jaws seemed to be dripping with a bluish flame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyes were ringed with fire. I placed my hand upon the glowing muzzle and as I held them up, my own fingers smoldered and gleamed in the darkness. Phosphorus, I said A cunning preparation of it, said Holmes, sniffing at the dead animal. There is no smell which might have interfered with his power of scent. We owe you a deep apology, sir Henry, for having exposed you to this fright. I was prepared for a hound, but not for such a creature as this, and the fog gave us little time to receive him. We must leave you now, said Holmes. The rest of our work must be done and every moment is of importance. We have our case and now we need Stapleton.

Speaker 1: 1:15:42

The front door was open, so we rushed and hurried in from room to room, to the amazement of a dodgering old man's servant who met us in the passage. There is no light, save in the dining room, but Holmes caught up the lamp and left no corner of the house unexplored. No sign could we see of the man whom we were chasing. On the upper floor, however, one of the bedroom doors was locked. There's someone in here, cried the straw. I can hear a movement open the door. A faint moaning and rustling came from within. Holmes struck the door just over the lock with the flat of his foot and it flew open.

Speaker 1: 1:16:38

All in hand, we all three rushed into the room, but there was no sign within it of that desperate and defiant villain whom we expected to see. Instead, we were faced by an object so strange and so unexpected that we stood for a moment staring at it in amazement. In the center of the room, there was an upright beam to which a figure was tied, so swathed and muffled in the sheets which had been used to secure it that one could not for the moment tell whether it was that of a man or a woman. In a minute we had torn off the gag, unswathed the bonds, and Mrs Stapleton sank upon the floor in front of us. Is he safe, she asked. Has he escaped? He cannot escape us, madam. No, no, I did not mean my husband, sir Henry. Is he safe? Yes, and the hound? It is dead. She gave a long sigh of satisfaction.

Speaker 1: 1:18:00

Mrs Stapleton, revealed to be the victim of Stapleton's deception, helped us uncover his hiding place, but hid mine on an island in the Grimpenmire. On the morning after the death of the hound, the fog had lifted and we were guided by Mrs Stapleton to the point where they had found a pathway through the bog. It helped us to realize the horror of this woman's life when we saw the eagerness and joy with which she laid us on her husband's track. We left her standing upon the thin peninsula of firm peaty soil which tapered out into the widespread bog. From the end of it, a small wand planted here and there showed where the path zigzagged from top to top to rushes among those green scum pits and fell.

Speaker 1: 1:19:01

Quagmires which barred the way to the stranger Ranked reeds and lush, slimy water plants sent an odor of decay and a heavy, miasmatic vapor into our faces, while a false step plunged us, or them, once thigh deep into the dark, quivering mire which shook for yards and soft undulations around our feet. Its tenacious grip plucked at our heels as we walked and when we sang into it. It was as if some malignant hand was tugging us down into those obscene depths, so graham and purposeful was the clutch in which it held us. Once only we saw a trace, though someone had passed a perilous way before us. From amid a tuft of cotton grass which bored up out of the slime, some dark thing was projecting.

Speaker 1: 1:20:10

Holmes sank to his waist as he stepped from the path to seize it. And have we not been there to drag him out? He could never have set his foot upon firm land again. He held an old black boot into the air. It is our friend Sir Henry's missing boot, thrown there by Stapleton in his flight Exactly. He retained it in his hand after using it to set the hound upon the track. He fled when he knew the game was up, still clutching it, and he hurled at this way.

Speaker 1: 1:20:49

At this point of his flight, we know at least that he came so far in safety, but more than that we were never destined to know, though there was much which we might surmise. There was no chance of finding footsteps in the mire, for the rising mud oozed swiftly in upon them. But as we at last reached firm our ground beyond the moorers, we all looked eagerly for them, but no slightest sign of them ever met our eyes. If the earth told a true story, then Stapleton never reached the island of refuge towards which he struggled through the fog upon that night. Somewhere in the heart of the great Grimpenmire, down in the foul slime of a huge moorers which had sucked him in, this cold and cruel-hearted man is forever buried.

Speaker 1: 1:22:00

Many traces we found of him in the boggert island where he had his savage alley. A huge driving wheel and a shaft half filled with rubbish showed the position of an abandoned mine. Beside it were the crumbling remains of the cottages of the miners, driven away no doubt by the foul reek of the surrounding swamp. In one of these, a staple and chain with a quantity of gnawed bones showed where the animal had been confined. A skeleton with a tangle of brown hair adhering to it lay among the debris. A dog said homes by Jove, a curly hair of spaniel. Poor Mortimer will never see his pet again.

Speaker 1: 1:22:54

Well, I do not know that this place contains any secret which we have not already fathomed.

Speaker 1: 1:23:02

He could hide his hound, but he could not hush his voice, and hence can those cries which even in daylight were not pleasant, to hear.

Speaker 1: 1:23:13

This pace in the tin is no doubt the luminous mixture with which the creature was dubbed. It was suggested, of course, by the story of the family Hellhound and by the desire to frighten old sir Charles to death. No wonder the poor devil of a convict ran and screamed, even as our friend did and as we ourselves might have done, when he saw such a creature bounding through the darkness of the moor upon his track. It was a cunning device, for apart from the chance of driving your victim to his death, what peasant would venture to inquire too closely to such a creature, should they get sight of it, as many have done upon the moor? I said it in London, watson, and I say it again now, that never yet have we helped hunt down a more dangerous man than he who is lying yonder. He swept his long arm towards a huge mottled expanse of green splodge bog, which stretched away until it merged into the russet slopes of the moor.